


His Little Experiment

by triptocaine



Category: The Evil Within (Video Game)
Genre: Joseph is an affectionate drunk, M/M, Ruvik gets Joseph drunk, and forced alcohol consumption, crack! fic, rated M for alcohol usage, so much crack, this is literally crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:17:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2593235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triptocaine/pseuds/triptocaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ruvik decides he wants to undergo an experiment with Joseph using alcohol. Though, when his little Joseph becomes so intoxicated, the results are a little unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Little Experiment

**Author's Note:**

> This is a crack fic. I wrote it, because I hit 200 kudos for all of my works combined. This is a crack fic. I also wrote this for my Ruvik, because they demanded more Jovik fanfic. This is a crack fic. Please note that I may/will write more of this relationship. THIS IS A CRACK FIC. Enjoy!

                It wouldn’t be the first time that Ruvik put his experiments under some form of influence. No, he’s tried it many times; to see how they would work with alcohol or some form of non-lethal drug within them. Would they react the same way as they would without it? Would it change the compatibility? Change their fears? Their strengths? So many variables, so little time.

                So when Ruvik was able to get his hands back onto his little Joseph, he was almost far too thrilled, if at all feeling thrilled, to begin the minor experiment. Of course, it did take some time to finally get Joseph strapped down onto the chair so he could begin testing.

                “Thirsty?” Ruvik would ask as he held up a glass. Of course, little Joseph wouldn’t say anything. Trained not to. Or told not to. Most likely from his fellow comrade Sebastian. So when the attractive detective would look away, Ruvik would press the glass to tied man’s lips.

                “I insist,” he would say lowly. And little Joseph would look up and shake his head.

                “I know it’s poisoned,” the detective would finally respond. “I’m not drinking anything you give me.”

                And with a quick fistful of hair, and a yank back, Ruvik was forcing the alcohol down Joseph’s throat. There was a muffled scream from the detective, a glug, and finally he was forcing himself to drink it. When he pulled away, Joseph gave a quick hack and looked down.

                “Vodka?” Joseph let out, furrowing his brow as he coughed again and looked up. “Why are you giving me vodka?”

                Ruvik didn’t give a response as he filled the cup back up with the strong drink and moved back to Joseph, pulling his head back again, forcing it down his throat. Joseph knew that it was going to end up inside of him, whether or not he was conscious or whether he wanted it down or not.

                And every time Ruvik went back to fill the cup up, he would say something, too soft for Joseph to hear, and too loud for him to very much care.

                “Oh this is so weird,” Joseph mumbled out after the third cup, his face starting to heat up. How many ounces did he have? He wasn’t sure. Though on the fourth cup, when his head was yanked back, he could feel himself getting slightly dizzy.

                “Wait, wait,” he managed to get out before the liquid was down his throat. This is what finally caught Ruvik’s attention as he pulled away from Joseph, watching him fix his head.

                “How are you feeling?” the hooded man finally asked.

                Joseph, in turn, let out a low groan, and then a strange gurgling noise.

                “Like everything is made of juice,” he mumbled.

                Ruvik wasn’t satisfied with this answer. He knew that little Joseph wasn’t inebriated enough. So the fourth cup went down, surprisingly without restraint. And the fifth cup as well. Before the sixth, Ruvik asked the question again.

                “Mind undoing m-me?” Joseph slurred. “From your weird kinky dsbm chair?”

                There it was.

                “What is your name?” Ruvik began to go through his traditional protocol questions for this experiment.

                “Joseph Ooooda,” the detective responded. “And I am the _coolest_ fffucking kid in… this… townnnnuh.”

                “How old are you Joseph?”

                “Old enough to say fuck you,” Joseph snorted. “Without… reeegrets.”

                “What year is it?”

                “Ppffftt.”

                Ruvik was satisfied with the amount of alcohol within the little detective.

                “Soooo, you gonnnna untie me Christianity Grey? Because I’m starting to lose feeling… in my fingers.”

                Ruvik wasn’t quite sure who this person Joseph was talking about, but at this point, he did need his little detective to move freely about as he would normally.

                Walking behind the tied man, he quickly undid any restraints that were keeping the detective down. Once undone, Ruvik stood and moved back in front of him before anything else happened. It took a moment before little Joseph was adventurous enough to attempt to stand. But what ended up being an attempt to stand was him practically turning himself into a noodle and sliding onto the floor, keeping his head on the chair. Ruvik made note.

                “Stand, Joseph,” Ruvik let out, not bothering to try and help the young man stand. Another groan, a moan, and then a struggle to get onto his own feet, Joseph was finally standing. Sort of. He wobbled, and titled, a ship out at sea during a storm. And carefully, oh so carefully, somehow swaggered, failed, and fell into Ruvik.

                The hooded man, of course, should have anticipated this behavior and managed to catch the drunk detective. When he looked down at his test subject, the other looked back up. Cheeks flushed, eyes glazed, a goofy expression.

                “Wow,” little and very drunk Joseph let out. “You have… such beautiful eyes.”

                Okay. That was a first. Ruvik made note. Joseph makes compliments when he is drunk. This was different from all other test subjects. Most of them lashed out, or started crying. Joseph almost, enjoyed being so intoxicated.

                “Remove yourself from me,” Ruvik finally growled, not wanting to touch Joseph in trepidation that he might ruin the experiment. Though in return, he received a soft hum, a warm hug and face on his neck, nuzzling him. Affectionate. Disgusting. Another note.

                “Did Iii,” Joseph began, his warm breath on Ruvik’s neck suddenly immensely distracting. “Nooo wait, I didn’t, youuu’ve been trying to kill me this whoooole… time. But I’mma gonna tell ya anywhooo.”

                “You have told me nothing,” Ruvik responded, still not touching Joseph.

                “Shhh, shh, shhhhh,” the detective returned, pressing a finger to Ruvik’s lips. “St-story tiiimmmee.”

                Oh lord.

                “When I, was twen… twenty… twenty-one,” Joseph was trying to remember. “Ye—yeh. Yeh, twenty-one. I, on my birthhhhdaay, entered… a pole dancing comp… comp… tourna… competititition. And I got… first plaaace. Don’t…. don’t tell…. Do not—“  Joseph lightly smacked Ruvik’s cheek “—do not tell…. Shhhh… no telling Seb. It’s a seeecret.”

                The first image that came to Ruvik’s mind was a Joseph in some form of scantily clad outfit, though his mind quickly changed it to some form of plain under garment. And Joseph, swinging around with one leg up, and the other out, upside-down, like some form of graceful and ethereal being with lights keeping him glowing.

                He needed to witness this. For science, clearly.

                “Would you like to recreate that birthday?” Ruvik asked.

                Joseph shook his head, only nuzzling into Ruvik’s neck more.

                “Thhhere is… noooo pole,” Joseph responded. There was a quick pulse, and there was a pole about three feet from them.

                “There is now.”

                Joseph gave a quick, and almost too loud squeal as he tried to move over to the pole and ended up dragging Ruvik with him. Once he had a firm grip on the pole, he let go of Ruvik and moved over to the cold silver. Holding onto it, he slid down a bit and lifted himself back up.

                And suddenly he was spinning. Sort of. And down he went, sliding his feet across the ground and suddenly, laying on the floor.

                “That was… uneventful,” Ruvik stated. “Do you need help standing?”

                “Mmmmm yeeeehh,” Joseph returned as he flopped onto his stomach, looking like he was about to roll away. Before he got the chance to, Ruvik moved over and pulled Joseph up by the seat of his pants and onto his feet. What he should have expected, and didn’t, was Joseph back to hugging him and nuzzling into his neck.

                These affectionate gestures were beginning to make Ruvik feel nauseous.

                Though it was when Joseph looked up, the mood seemed to change. His expression dropped into something that of longing, or perhaps sadness? Ruvik was unaware of this expression. He made note again.

                “I’mma… gonna kiiissss… you,” Joseph whispered. “Yes, you. Gonna kiss.”

                “No you won’t,” Ruvik growled. But before he could get the little Joseph off of him, they were locking lips and the pressure of the kiss was enough for Ruvik to actually feel it. The scent of the detective was on him, was in him, was surrounding his senses. It wasn’t even a very good kiss, though Ruvik truly wouldn’t know, and it smelt of vodka and an experiment gone wrong. Joseph broke the kiss.

                “Gonnnaaaa,” he started, keeping their lips fairly close so when he spoke his lips brushed up against the scarred ones. “Gonnnaaaa do it… again.”

                And he pulled Ruvik into another fully pressured, dare he say, passionate kiss. When Joseph’s arms went up and around the hooded man’s neck, he started to pull the two of them down. Ruvik noted the sudden strength… or did his little Joseph always have this?

                The kissing was becoming… almost pleasant. Aside from the vodka smell. But Joseph’s scent seemed to almost over power that. And when the two were on the floor, Ruvik was so neatly in between Joseph’s legs, wedged to a spot where the detective’s own legs were in the air and wrapping themselves around Ruvik.

                And almost immediately, and willingly, Ruvik’s mouth left Joseph’s lips, leaving a trail of kisses down to his little detective’s neck. This was weird, yes, but enjoyable. For science, clearly. Kissing and biting a small spot just below Joseph’s ear, he could hear the mewls of delight coming from below him. He bit harder, and that got a soft yelp from the man beneath him.

                Lifting his head back up, he stared down at the half-lidded and dilated eyes. And as he was coming down for another kiss, there was a finger at his lips.

                “Mmmmnooo,” his little Joseph smiled.

                “This is not what you want?” Ruvik growled, wanting nothing more than to continue the oddly enjoyable encounter.

                “It… is,” Joseph hummed. “But noooott now. Too… tooo sleepy.”

                And then, his little Joseph slipped his legs back to himself and onto one side of Ruvik’s legs. Curling up on his side, there was almost no time wasted for him to start breathing heavily, and soon enough… drift off.

                Ruvik made a note.

                Standing back up, he went back to his recorder and stated a few things that happened during the experiment before pressing stop, to end the recording. Looking back at his little Joseph sleeping, he stared at the lovely dark red mark he left behind. Taking off his hooded shirt, he laid it over the younger man, leaned down and gave a small kiss to his temple, only to leave him on the floor.

 

                                                                                                --- * ---

 

                When Joseph woke up, he could feel his head throbbing away, giving him unpleasant attempts of a memory from the last time he was awake. He felt sick. Oh so very, very, _very_ sick. Sitting up, his eyes caught an off-white fabric fall from his shoulders. Lifting it up, he spotted the hood. Images came rushing back as he held his gloved hand to a small spot on his neck, wincing when he pressed down.

                His eyes caught the almost empty bottle of vodka, and then the shining pole.

                “Oh… fuck.”


End file.
